


That Time Tony Threw Clint A Bachelor Party

by Caedmon



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Asgardian Liquor, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Awesome Jane Foster, Awesome Natasha, Awesome Pepper, Awesome Phil Coulson, Drinking, Drunk Clint, Drunk Coulson, Drunk Tony, F/M, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, There are shenanigans, Thor Is Not Stupid, Tony Is a Good Bro, and Sam has a camera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1942368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Natasha just got married, and Tony didn't get a chance to throw Clint a bachelor party. This is absolutely unacceptable. So he throws one anyway...who cares if the groom isn't a bachelor anymore? Not Tony Stark, that's for sure. Clint Barton is getting a bachelor party, Tony Stark Style. Hell yeah.</p><p>Then the wives and girlfriends find out what they're up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time Tony Threw Clint A Bachelor Party

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about a bachelor party. A bachelor party thrown by _Tony Stark_. There's no smut in this story, but if movies like Animal House or American Pie offend you, you may want to walk on by this one. There's a lot of swearing in here. Like, a lot. If you've ever been to a frat party, it's kind of like that.
> 
> This is a one-shot that runs parallel to my story "My Weakness." The only relevant plot points from there to this story are that Clint and Natasha are pregnant and just got married.

“Tony, I still don’t understand why we can’t have this party at the Tower. I mean, really, if all we’re doing is drinking and smoking cigars and bullshitting, why can’t we do that in the common room?” Clint complained from a few seats down in the limo. 

Tony Stark rolled his eyes. “Lighten up, Birdie. You wanna go back and drink wine with the ladies? This is your bachelor party, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not a bachelor. I’ve been married since June. We’re pregnant.”

Tony waved a hand holding a glass of bourbon in an indistinct circle in the air. “Semantics.”

Bruce Banner, ever the voice for peace, spoke up. “Clint, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Tony probably just didn’t want the girls walking in while we talked about, you know, our past misdeeds.”

Tony raised his glass of bourbon and pointed it at Bruce. “Yes. That. What he said.”

Clint was not to be deterred and argued with Bruce. “Yes, but I’m not convinced he’s not going to have a bunch of strippers show up, and if he does, Nat is going to-“

Tony broke in, “Nat is going to what? How many times have you two watched each other make out with someone else on the job? Come on now, Birdie. I told you. I gave you my solemn vow. There will be no low-class strippers at your bachelor party. Everything is high-class all the way. Top-shelf all the way for you, buddy. Hell, I even got you some liquor from another planet.” He slapped Thor forcefully on the back. “Now, what’s going to happen is, me, you, Thor, Brucie, Steve-o, Sammy, and Phil are going to go shoot a little pool, throw some darts, talk a lot of shit and drink a lot of booze. A _lot_ of booze. I’m shooting to drink all the alcohol in midtown. Ok?”

Clint looked at him doubtfully, and Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “It’ll be okay, man. Loosen up. Get drunk. I’ve $50 against Cap saying I can get you soused enough to beat your sorry ass at pool. Don't let me lose, man.” 

Clint grinned. “Man, you’ve fucked up now. I never lose.”

~*~

The evening began as Tony promised, with glasses of bourbon, bottles of imported beer, expensive cigars and bawdy toasts to Clint that he really hoped never got back to Natasha. Clint had never spent much time with Sam, but with $50 and his reputation as a pool player on the line, the two of them got on the green and shot while they drank. Steve felt a mixture of amusement and alarm to find that the two of them took to each other immediately, and within an hour seemed to have inside jokes. Oh well, birds of a feather…

Shortly after their arrival, Phil Coulson showed up with two barrels of Asgardian mead. Thor was greatly excited and gathered everyone for a toast. Bruce and Steve both declined, but Thor was insistent. 

“No, you must drink. It is tradition to do so, and bad luck not to.”

Bruce protested, “But I'm telling you, Thor, I don’t drink. You have to understand why.”

“Banner, we are all your friends here. There is nothing to fear or fight. Everyone present must drink in order to wish Hawkeye well, otherwise he may be cursed.”

Tony raised his glass containing his fourth bourbon in what he seemed to think an encouraging salute. “Yeah, bro. You don’t wanna fuck up Birdie’s life, do ya? One mug won’t hurt ya.”

Bruce looked at all the men around him. The only sympathy he saw was coming from Steve and Clint himself. Tony turned around to the bar and grabbed a glass of mead, sloshing it over the sides, then thrust it in Bruce’s hands. He looked down at it and sighed. The scientist in him wanted to call bullshit on the idea of good luck and curses. Of course, the scientist in him would never have believed an alien god would be offering him beer from another planet, but here he was. If it was true, he didn’t want to run the risk of bad luck potentially hurting the friends he’d become so close to. Bruce had to admit, it smelled amazing - unlike any beer he’d ever known on earth. Finally he raised his head and said, “Okay. You win. One mug, for Clint and Natasha’s good luck.” 

“Atta boy!” Tony slapped him on the shoulder, sloshing more mead over the side of the mug, then turned to the bar, grabbing the rest of the mugs, handing them out haphazardly. Steve shook his head softly but took his mead politely. He’d drink it just to keep from rocking the boat. 

Tony raised his mug and shouted, “Gentlemen! Tonight, we put to rest the bachelorhood of our brother in arms, Clint Barton, Hawkeye, for it has died. It died well before it’s time. But we will not grieve the loss, we will celebrate the memory of the bachelor who was, before Hawkeye surrendered his manhood with no conditions, like Lee at Appamatox. Clint who loved Natasha. To Hawkeye!”

Clint rolled his eyes and raised his glass to a chorus of shouted “To Hawkeye!”s and laughs as the mugs clinked and ale splashed on the floor, then engaged a quiet, unspoken contest amongst the men to see who could finish their mug of ale first. 

Bruce had taken about five swallows when he felt the warmth spreading outward from his center. It was pleasant, and he wanted more. He continued to chug, and by the time he had drained his mug, he had a nice buzz. He hadn’t felt this way in many, many years, and it was exciting to feel like his old self. He looked at Tony. “You know what? I think I’ll have another. Maybe two more.”

“Me, too,” said Steve.

Clint smacked his lips and said, “Damn, Thor, that was good. I want another, too.”

Coulson piped up, his face flushed, “Hit me again.”

Tony beamed. 

~*~

Steve had not been able to get drunk since 1941, so when he realized that Thor’s mead was intoxicating to him, he drank greedily. After five mugs, he was loose-lipped and happy, much to everyone’s entertainment. Clint was stumbling a bit, but still soundly thrashing everyone at pool and darts. Tony had started making drunken, outrageous bets against him and at last count, Clint had won $11,275. Phil had released his authority and control for the evening and allowed himself to let his hair down; a wise decision, because he was currently two sheets to the wind and pulling out his third. For the last 15 minutes, he’d been locked in a deep conversation about the merits of The Voice vs. American Idol with Thor and Bruce, who were both only slightly tipsy and were politely pretending to pay attention. Sam had decided at some point to make himself the evening’s videographer and was seen at various points throughout the evening with his phone, recording quotes from people, capturing some of the more colorful moments… anything that popped into his head that he thought might be entertaining to watch in the common room later, he recorded on his phone. Nobody thought anything of it.

Happy Hogan stuck his head in the door: “Hey, boss? They’re here.”

Tony rolled his head towards the door drunkenly. “Who? Oh yeah! Awesome. Barkeep! You know what to do.” 

Two members of the waitstaff came out and removed the ornate wood from around the column supports in the middle of the room, revealing metal poles. Another member came out and put two chairs in the floor between the two columns.

Clint looked around, drunk but making slow connections. “What’s going on, Tony…?”

Tony hiccuped. “You’ll see, Birdie. Calm your tits.”

“Gimme more of that mead, Thor. Quick.” Clint took the tankard and started chugging as the door opened and four women walked in, all sporting long coats, lots of makeup and impossibly tall high heels. Clint choked on the mead. “Goddammit, Tony, you promised!”

Tony wagged his finger in the air and smiled the smile of a child who had gotten away with stealing the candy. “Uh-uh. I said no _low-class_ strippers. These ladies are _top-notch_. They’re the _Rolls Royce_ of strippers.” Tony raised his bourbon in salute at Clint. “Only the best for you, Birdie.”

The Rolls Royce strippers made their way over to Tony, strutting and casting their eyes all around the room, making eye contact and sending sultry looks around, obviously enjoying the open-mouthed reactions they were getting. Tony took one of their hands when they arrived and kissed her cheek. “Brandi, good to see you.” 

“Tony, always a pleasure. Who’s the bachelor boy?”

“I’m not a bachelor, I’m married!”

Sam chuckled and muttered under his breath. “Smooth, Barton.”

Clint turned to him. He’d turned too fast, and he staggered. “Shit. Now they’re on to me, aren’t they.”

“I think so, man.”

“Shit.”

Tony walked the brunette over to Clint. “Clint, this is Brandi. She’s going to make friends with you for a few minutes.”

“Hi, Brandi. I’m married.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Ignore him. He’s not used to being off his chain.” He turned back to Clint. “Will it make it better if I go with you? Hmm? I’ll make that sacrifice with you. Because we’re friends.”

Brandi took Clint by the hand and pulled him out to the middle of the floor, pushing him down into the chair. Clint looked around, clutching his mug, not 100% sure of what was happening. It occurred to him to finish his mead, so he started chugging again, watching Brandi from the corner of his eye. Tony got pushed down into the chair nearby and turned his head towards Clint. “Enjoy the ride, Birdie.”

As he finished the last of the mead, the mug was pulled out of his hands. “Wha-“

AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” started loudly over the PA system. Clint looked around, getting his bearings, his eyes landing on the woman standing right in front of him as she jerked open her long trench coat, revealing very little underneath.

“Wha-?“

She climbed up on his lap and started dancing, undulating and rubbing him.

Clint looked at her drunkenly. “My wife is gonna kill me. And she can do it, too. She could do it with her thighs. It’s kinda hot.”

She paid absolutely no attention to him, putting one leg on his shoulder and arching herself backwards.

Clint watched her stupidly. “I’m Clint and I’m married. You have great tits. My wife is gonna cut my dick off.” She continued to dance, gyrating and grinding, using Clint as a prop for nearly naked gymnastics.

Tony called out from somewhere next to him, “Having fun, Birdie?” Clint tried to turn and answer him, but Brandi took that opportunity to shove her breasts in his face.

Clint clutched the bottom of the chair and just watched her dazedly, sometimes saying things like, “Your ass is amazing. Nat is gonna fucking murder me.” She grabbed Clint’s hands and put them on her and he looked at the guys helplessly. They had gathered around and were cheering her on, catcalling and yelling suggestions to Clint. He kept his hands perfectly still and just watched her, his mouth open.

She finished and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, pressing her breasts in his face one last time as she rose up. “You’re cute. Too bad you’re married already.”

He sat there for a moment, just looking at her, then said, “I think I need another drink,” and made a run to the bar through all the claps on the back. 

Brandi turned to the crowd. “Who’s next?”

Steve almost ran to the chair, taking long strides in a loping, unsteady gait that was not typical of him. “I am!” 

Looks were exchanged amongst the men. Steve? Drunk and getting a lap dance?

Tony walked up to the guys, adjusting his collar and saw thier faces. “Damn, was it that much fun to watch? What’s going-“ Bruce pointed towards Steve and Tony turned around. His jaw dropped and Bruce was amused to see him stutter wordlessly for a minute. 

Brandi purred. “Oooh, Captain America. Well, it’s a pleasure to serve my country. I love a man in uniform.”

Sam called out, “Hey! What the hell! I’m a veteran, too!”

The blonde who had danced with Tony stepped up. “Well come on out here, big man.”

Tony took a few unsteady steps towards the chairs, staring incredulously at Steve who was already pawing the brunette. “Cap? You okay?”

“I’m fucking great.” The brunette came over to Steve and straddled his legs, putting her hands on his shoulders. Steve put his hands on her waist and eyed her up and down, not sparing Tony a glance. “Oh, yeah. I’m jim-goddamn-dandy.”

Clint came up to the guys, asking, “What’s going on?” He spotted Steve and his eyes widened. “Oh, shit.” The DJ played “American Woman”, and the girls got started rolling thier hips, biting their lips and rubbing thier bodies all over the soldiers in the chairs before them. 

Tony turned and walked, openmouthed, to join Thor, Bruce, Clint and Coulson. Each had a mug of ale, and only Thor looked completely steady on his feet. “Guys, I think I might have made a mistake getting Cap drunk.” Nobody was listening. They were watching the show.

Unlike Clint, Steve had no problems running his hands all over the girl dancing on him. She seemed to feed off it and performed some very ambitious moves, including a headstand that culminated in her wrapping her thighs around Steve’s head. “I love when Nat does that shit,” Clint helpfully supplied. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, nobody else seemed to hear. 

When the music ended and she was finished, Brandi didn’t immediately climb off his lap, and Steve didn’t immediately let her go. He finally released her after a few long seconds and heated looks, though, grinning and walking somewhere between a swagger and a stagger over to where the guys were standing, looking shell-shocked.

“God _damn_ , I could do that all night.” Cap looked over at her, she was looking at him and smiling. His teammates just stared at him. “What?”

“What the hell was that?”

“A lap dance.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Steve Rogers.”

“No, Steve Rogers doesn’t swear or get lap dances and - “

Steve held up a hand. “Guys, I grew up in Brooklyn. I was a G.I. in the goddamn US Army. Of _course_ I fucking swear. And I toured the US and Europe as the only guy with about 25 gorgeous showgirls. It made you happy to think I’m this really clean-cut, straight-laced all-American virgin and that’s what the public likes to believe, but honestly? I probably got more ass on that tour than all you guys put together. Super serum protects against diseases, right? No clap for ol’ Cap! Yeah, I ain’t no fuckin’ choir boy, I just didn't realize fondue wasn’t a euphemism.”

The men stood staring at him, open-mouthed. Steve chuckled and said, “You might wanna shut your traps or something’ll fly in there. I think I’m going to get another mug, shoot a little pool, and wait to see if I can’t get another dance.”

~*~

As it turned out, Steve could get quite a few more lap dances. In fact, every time he sat down, Brandi was in his lap. Coulson had seemed to enjoy watching the girls pole dance, content to just watch and sing along to the music. However, after a while, he decided that the other guys were having too much fun with the lap dances and he decided he should have some fun, too. Tony was so delighted with the idea of Coulson getting a lap dance that he paid two of the girls to dance with him at once. He looked like Santa Claus had just landed in the room and offered him a ride in the sleigh.

Thor had struck up a friendly conversation with the bartender, not understanding the custom of naked women dancing for men at parties and not particularly caring for it. Bruce had ended up talking to one of the girls about her college curriculum; she wanted to major in microbiology and he was counseling her on which courses would help her on her path. Of course, she was in a g-string and pasties, but Bruce paid absolutely no attention to this. 

Clint had discovered, much like Steve, that every time he sat down someone got in his lap. So he kept drinking and shooting pool until he started missing shots. When he scratched twice in a game, he switched to water and tried to figure out a way to sit down without being danced on. Tony was having the time of his life, which surprised absolutely no one.

Coulson had abandoned all pretense of being remotely sober, removed his tie, tied it around his head like a bandana and was singing “Work, Bitch” while the strippers danced. Nobody could be entirely sure, but they thought he may be trying to imitate their moves. It was hard to tell.

Throughout the night, Sam pulled his phone out, videoing various snippets of it: the highlights of an awesome party. Eventually, he figured he had enough and decided to upload it safely to the Avengers’ private server, accessible only to the Avengers. No one would ever see. Only the seven of them. No one else….

~*~

Natasha Romanov Barton sat in her home with her friends, idly scratching gentle circles on her round belly. They had had a girls’ evening, which was nice. Something she was unaccustomed to, but nice. She knew Tony’s girlfriend, Pepper, well, but she was just getting to know Thor’s girlfriend Jane and Jane’s friend Darcy. She had never had friends before - much less female friends - so it was uncharted territory for her, but she seemed to be doing okay. 

“Do you guys need anything? More wine? I’ve got two more bottles chilling for you in the fridge.” She moved to get off the couch. 

“I’ll get it,” Pepper said. “You stay here and off your feet.”

Natasha smiled. She hated being coddled, but she went along with it.

Pepper came back with a bottle of blush and a bottle of orange juice for Natasha. “So what do you think they’re up to?”

Jane checked her phone. “Well, Thor texted about two hours ago, he said that his mead had been very popular and that they ‘had all imbibed freely’ and the other guys were ‘getting quite intoxicated’. I texted back, I was fishing for information because, you know, most of those guys don’t drink. He texted again about an hour ago and said that they were having fun, that Steve had gotten drunk and Coulson was ‘amusing to witness’. 

Pepper grinned with the wineglass at her lips. “Thor can text?”

“Sure. You’d be surprised how quickly he picked up on our technology. Most of it was pretty ancient for him, but he caught on quickly. Thor’s very intelligent.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Doesn’t he drink?” Pepper asked.

“He does, but our alcohol doesn’t really affect him, and he’s used to his own mead, so it doesn’t have the same effect it does on the rest of the guys. They’re probably pretty wasted.”

“Oh, I would _love_ to see Steve Rogers drunk,” said Darcy.

Jane snorted. “You’d love to see Cap any way you can.”

“Yes, I would.” Darcy was unabashed, and it made all of them giggle.

Natasha chuckled. “Drunk Cap. I can’t imagine. That would be fun to see. I hope Bruce is okay, though.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He never drinks, and even if he does he knows when to stop. Bruce is very cognizant of himself,” Jane reassured Natasha.

Natasha smiled. “I know. He and I are close.”

Darcy looked at Natasha curiously, “You’re not worried about Hawkeye?”

Natasha shook her head and swallowed her orange juice. “Not a bit.”

“But it’s his bachelor party.”

“I know.”

Darcy looked perplexed and Natasha smiled at her. “I know him like the back of my hand. He’s -“ 

Jarvis spoke up. “Mrs. Barton?”

“Yes, Jarvis?”

“Forgive me, madam, but there has been an upload to the Avengers server and I’m not sure how to categorize it. It is only labeled “for later.” Could you possibly be of assistance?”

“What kind of file is it?”

“It is a video file, Mrs. Barton.”

The women all looked at each other. Natasha locked eyes with Pepper. Natasha’s eyes were glinting and her lip quirked up. Pepper’s eyes were widened and her lips pursed. “Where did the file originate, Jarvis?”

“The StarkPhone of Mr. Sam Wilson, madam.”

“Send it to my screen, Jarvis.”

~*~

“Well. That was enlightening.” Pepper took a long sip of wine.

Natasha reclined on the couch, putting her feet on the coffee table and rubbing circles on her belly. She couldn’t look at any of the other women; it was all she could do to keep from bursting into laughter. Everything about that video was hilarious to her, but she knew that to the others, seeing their men being hung on by other women probably wasn’t all that funny. She didn’t want to make fun of her new friends, so she bit the inside of her cheek and looked at Clint’s antique recurve bow hung over the mantle while she rubbed her belly.

The women all sat silent for a few minutes, then Darcy piped up. “Did you see the tits on that blonde that was dancing with Coulson? God. I'd shank a bitch for tits like that.”

Natasha lost it, letting go with a loud, raucous peal of laughter. She curled around her belly as she giggled, talking as she fought for control, “Poor Clint…my poor Clint…did you see his _face_? That woman stuck her boobs in his face and when she leaned back his face was just..." Natasha could barely breathe for laughing. "And then he ran off like she'd burned him..." and burst then into more high-pitched giggles. The others had cracked up laughing, too, and she continued, panting, “…and they all just look so damned _funny_ , but they think they’re all smooth with the ladies…”, she laughed more, “And Coulson, oh God Coulson, with a tie on his _head_...dancing and singing Work Bitch…” she grabbed her belly, “oooh, I gotta stop, the baby…she’s unhappy with me.” 

She sobered a little, immensely satisfied that the other women were laughing, too, the tension diffused. Her giggles died down, slowly, occasionally starting back up when the image of Clint’s face or Coulson’s tie popped back in her head.

Jane wiped under one eye and asked, “So what do we do?”

Pepper said, “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been given this fantastic weapon. It's a shame not to use it.” 

Natasha turned her head to Jane and cocked an eyebrow, smiling slyly. “I’m impressed, Jane. Most people don’t surprise me.” Jane smiled and looked down, a mixture of embarrassment and mischievousness on her face. 

Darcy spoke up. “I don’t have a dog in this fight, but you guys _have_ to do something. I’ll help.”

Pepper looked owl-eyed over at Jane and Darcy who were grinning mischievously, then looked back at Natasha. Natasha looked around at the group. “I have a plan. It’s quick and painless. Just about thirty minutes of heart-stoppage for them.”

“I’m in.”

“Me too.”

Pepper looked around again, silently. She studied all of their faces, noticing the impish glint in all of their eyes. “Oh, what the hell. I’m in.”

~*~

Thor’s phone buzzed and he read the message. “play along.” His brows furrowed, confused, but he replied quickly and put the phone back in his pocket.

Across the room Clint and Tony’s phones went off. Clint didn’t notice his, he had gone back to beer and was in the process of telling some wild story to Sam and attempting to send the redheaded stripper that was using him as a human ladder over towards Sam, Bruce or Tony. The tale he was telling probably would have gotten him in deep trouble with Coulson had Coulson been conscious and not currently having a very accurate-looking dick drawn on his face by Captain America. Brandi, Cap's new love, was wearing his t-shirt and draped across his back with her head on his shoulder, giggling in his ear. Tony only noticed the phone in his pocket going off because the girl in his lap felt it on her leg. She pointed it out to him, and he politely asked her to get the hell up and go the hell away. He slapped around at his thigh until he found his phone and dug it out, pressed a button and tried to focus on the screen but couldn’t. “Hey. Hey. Birdboy. Whazzat say?”

“I dunno.”

“Not you, Birdie, the new Birdboy. Goddamn, you think you’re the only bird in my life? Jesus.”

Clint stumbled off, muttering something about how he wanted another Budweiser if he was going to have to put up with Stark’s mouthy shit. 

“Birdboy. Whazzat say?”

Sam took the phone and looked at it, squinting to focus. “It says, ‘Tony, I’m going to be getting home late. Nat, Jane, Darcy and I are playing truth or dare and having a really _really_ good time. We’re learning all kinds of things about ourselves and each other. I’ll probably be home before dawn. xoxo’ And then there’s a second message, it says ‘see if you can get Clint to stay with you until we’re done. This is girls’ night and he probably shouldn’t be here. we're having fun all by ourselves. xoxo ~p.’”

Tony stared at him, blinking stupidly, mouth slightly open, processing. Sam watched him, smirking. After about a minute, Tony turned around, raised both arms in the air and bellowed:

 _”AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE!_ We got to get the fuck home. _NOW!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed...kudos and comments are GREATLY appreciated. Stop by my tumblr! caedmonfaith.tumblr.com


End file.
